Counting Blessings
by ChocoAndCigs
Summary: MxM; Thanksgiving is a new concept for Matt. He's never known about the whole "family" thing. When he hears Mello praying about how thankful he is for Matt, things change for the better. It's a great thing, to know you're wanted.


**Counting Blessings**

**[[ -sniff- I feel so bad getting so little reviews on my Halloween story. )': I decided just to make these holiday fics just one big story with different chapters for each occasion. Having so many one-shot-type-things is somewhat annoying rather than having one big story.**

**This thing is hard to type! Sadly, I injured my hand... on my... violin. Lame, yes. I was holding it too hard and apparently wrong. I hate typing up my stories in the first place, this just makes it worse. Review please? It'll make me so happy. ^^**

**Don't own-eet! If I did, than my mom might stop saying I'll only be able to work lamely my whole life at McDonalds! __" K thx, bai!]]**

Many preparations were being made. Children were being shooed from the dining room and swatted from the kitchen. A day to "give thanks" as everyone always says but this might be the very first year I'll actually be able to say I'm grateful for something. Let's just say holidays before Wammy's were sour. Thanksgiving with my dad was about as entertaining as watching those seven hour marathon of static on a TV screen. He'd smoke cigarette after cigarette until the dilapidated apartment stunk like it was on fire. I'd sneak over after watching him for a few minutes, resting my head on his knee before he pushed me away with a jolt of his leg.

"Why does everybody else celebrate?" my small voice would wonder out loud, hearing the happy voices of families that lived on either side of us, "How come they all do and we don't?" The ragged man sitting in the blue recliner would chuckle coldly and nub the butt of the cancer stick out on the little gray ashtray that rested on the dirty glass coffee table where his muddy boots often rested after a long day. "Because," his deep voice cackled in Texas twang, "Only real families do shit like that. We ain't never gonna be no real family."

I'd spend the rest of the evening in my pathetic excuse for a room, listening to happy family noises from the apartment beside us, smelling food that made my stomach growl and my chest ache, trying to decide why having no mother or cousins or anything of that sort meant we couldn't be a real family. It kept me up at night, in a torturous way.

Thanksgiving in the System wasn't any better, nothing to be appreciative of. The youngest of the children (who always seemed to be sick with a awful cough or runny nose, which made me lose most of my appetite anyway) were served first. Than the oldest kids would gobble up most what was left of the holiday feast. Not much was there for the kids in my age group after that. The turkey had a rubber texture and was completely gray when you bit into it. Mashed potatoes were runny and a strange bacon-pink color. It was about as great as the dry beef jerky I'd take from my dad's old sock drawer when he forgot to buy bread and peanut butter for my "meals".

Now as I breathe in the mouth-watering fumes coming from the kitchen downstairs I'm almost exited. I guess I consider this my first attempt at celebrating. A new person with a new life and new friends. Well, _friend_. There was only one person who seemed to be around me enough for a thing like friendship in the few months I had been at Wammy's House. After befriending him though, people seemed to be a lot more cautious about the things they did to me. I was friends with a raging bundle of blonde hair and chocolate, whose presence you couldn't miss even if you were trying. His pale skin contrasting against the black clothing he almost always wore, snapping chocolate off the bar he'd always have in hand, golden hair always perfectly in order, and cerulean eyes that could see through you all at once. He was apparently brilliant but I hadn't really seen the full force of it yet. I just knew he studied all the time, because he was always in Wammy's vast library burying himself in mountains of books far too advanced for the almost ten year old he was. I just don't get why he'd put all of that effort and waste all of that caffinated energy on books. I'd much rather be playing Super Smash Brothers on the old Nintendo 64 they had in the play room than reading about Newton's Three Laws of Physics and the Pythagorean Theorem. Despite our differences I was drawn to him like the opposite ends of magnets attracting. It wasn't just something about him. It was everything about him. From the moment we officially met I could tell he was something I wanted to stay with me.

I look over to my bedroom door as a few short, angry knocks sound from the other side. I got up from my unmade bed and open the door to reveal Mello himself, in all his blonde and chocolate glory. He snaps off a piece of the sweet and grabbed onto my wrist without a word. Before I can even shut my bedroom door he pulls me down the hall.

"What is it Mello?" I hurry up to stay at an even pace with his speed walk, failing miserably. "Where are we going?" Ignoring me he turned sharply and starts to stomp down the stairs two at a time. "What. The. Hell?" I jolt, jostling down the stairs.

"Let's go outside." he says behind a chunk of candy that's by his mouth so he can munch off another piece. Was he bonkers? "Let's do something special today. I want something to remember." Having no idea where such a thing came from, I trot outside with him and into the bare, dull front yard. The leaves were long fallen off the trees and the grass was slowly dying. A slight breeze chills me to the bone regardless of the long sleeves that both of us were wearing. Mello released my captive arm and stormed away from me, breathing heavily. It didn't take a genius to figure out that something was upsetting him. I hurry over to where he stopped, lightly resting my hand on his shoulder. He keeps his face at an angle so I can't see his expression and shrugs me off angrily.

"Mells..." I'm trying to keep my voice light. Trying to make him see that I care, but disguising it enough to make it seem like I also don't need to know. "Tell me what happened." With every exhale I can see a foggy mist rise from his slightly parted lips. It really was cold. The yellowing grass and harsh weather. I'd always hated the outdoors-- in any season, but winter was always the most awful.

"Dammit!" he shouts and throws his silver chocolate wrapper down to the ground with much more force than necessary. I jump back a bit, not expecting such a sudden reaction. The wrap shines off of the clouded over sun, casting bright rays of light over the dull blades of grass. After a few seconds of penetrating silence I side-step in front of him to see his well hidden expression. Those cerulean eyes are watered over, his eyebrows pushed tightly together in frustration, cheeks flushed from either the harsh cold or anger, I don't know which.

"Agh! Don't come near me, Matt!" he grabbed fistfuls of his own hair and drops to the ground, squatting. I don't point out the fact that he was the one who managed to wrangle _me _outside with _him_. Not the other way around. I kick the prickly, dry grass with the toe of my rubber sneaker, trying to think of the right thing to say.

"Well..." I start, slowly and cautiously, "If I can't come near you, how can I help you?" I see him shuffle uncomfortably and than bursts out, "I'll never be good enough! Never ever! I'm always not close enough or not perfect enough. I'm _always_ number two and nobody ever cares for two. All they care about is one." he still won't look at me, so I sit on the ground and scoot over to him, tugging his hands gently off of his cornsilk tresses before he pulled any harder and went bald. I was always horrible at comforting people. I was horrible at the whole "emotions" thing altogether, but hell, Mello mattered so I'd do my best.

I awkwardly encircled my arms around his shoulders, leaning my head toward his.

"You matter." he snorts and I know he's rolling his eyes in disbelief. "You matter to me." I say, backing up my reason. He looks right at me, making me loose my grip on him. I put my hands down to my sides awkwardly to rip blades of grass from the soft dirt at a rapid pace. "You do." I reassure as he continues his shell-shocked stare.

"What am I to you Matt? You can't tell me friends matter all that much." Without missing a beat I state, "You're everything." And with those words leaving my mouth and being able to hear them aloud , I came to realize how true it was. Without Mello, Wammy's House would be another boring house in the System. Well, a much fancier house, but a plain old get-clumped-in orphanage all the same.

With a shake of blonde hair Mello stands up, brushing pieces of dry grass off of his black outfit.

"You're a piece of work, kid." he holds out a hand to me and helps me up. He looks around the vast yard and than back to me. "Well... we didn't really do anything worth remembering..." I hold up my hand to cut him off. He didn't understand that just by him _saying_ it would be memorable would make it worth remembering.

"That was all Mells. It's already something I'll always remember."

He cocks an eyebrow at my strange talk. "Alright crazy." he says and starts back toward the house. "It's freezing out here and I have some things to do, so I'll see you at the Feast." He's inside before I can register it. I stand outside in the cold trying to turn the events that just occurred around in my head. Mello's PMSing attitude was giving me mental whiplash. I rush inside when a icy breeze rustles through the trees. In the House I decide to head up to Mello's room. I wasn't prepared to get ditched this like that. Even if he was busy studying or whatever he had to do I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I played my Gameboy Color, as long as the volume was muted. I needed to be distracted from the food being cooked downstairs.

I trudge over the squeaky board a few feet from Mello's bedroom and notice the door is open just a crack. Very un-Mello like. I tiptoe over, suddenly cautious, as if I wasn't supposed to be there. Like a _spy. _I always thought spies were the shit. I pull the orange goggles resting on my head over my eyes as a form of personal protection. Pressing my back against the beige wall, I lean over between the door and the wall. I wish I had a glass cup or something ninja like that, but God forbid I should into the kitchen where all the crazy cooks were. My bum would be swatted into next Thanksgiving.

I lean over to the point of tipping over but manage to keep myself on two feet. From my able I can see Mello's full, black clothed self kneeling by the side of his bed. What was he doing? "Father in Heaven," I hear his voice flow coming through the opening in the door. Oh. He was praying. _Well Matt, _I tell myself, _You should probably walk away now. 'Cause praying is a personal thing that shouldn't be eavesdropped upon. _I feel myself shuffle closer to get better reception. My conscious didn't really have a strong will, did it?

"Creator of all and source of all goodness and love." I mentally rolled my eyes. Who comes up with this stuff? It was much too mechanical, the same thing over and over. Why would God want to listen to a broken record? "Please look kindly upon us and receive our heartfelt gratitude in this time of thanks." Sinking to the floor, I pouted. This was about as interesting as reading a textbook. I pulled out my Gameboy, ready to play until Mello was finished and I could go into his room without being hit. With volume on mute, Mello's prayer is as coherent as it was when I was actually trying to listen. Before I knew it, though I was lost in my game, Mello's voice just a noise in the background. Prayers were pretty and Mello's voice was always so sweet when he did those kinds of churchy things. That voice was lulling.

Mello paused, and I look up, wondering if absence of noise meant he was finished. I held my breath, afraid he had heard me and I was going to get a beating. I was frozen, the screen of my console flashed "MAT Is Dead". After seven or so seconds Mello's voice picked up again. "Thank you Lord for Wammy's House and thank you for..."he paused yet again and I could feel the awkward tension seething from him, "thank you for Matt, who always seems to know how to help me." He stops again and I think he's forgetting the memorized parts of this prayer. "This Thanksgiving Day, I give thanks for countless other blessings you provide us with daily. Amen."

My heart is pounding in my chest. Someone is glad to have me? Someone is _thankful _for _me? _My game is gripped tightly in my hands as my head tries to process this new source of information. I've never felt so... so... wanted. When Mello opens the door fully and he looks down at me, his facial expression turns from calm to pissed to embarrassed all in a few seconds. The only thing that I think to do is jump to my feet and wrap my arms around his neck.

"Ah, damn! Matt what're you doing here? What did you hear? Are you crazy?" I was laughing I was so happy. I felt like jumping up and down like a little girl, but I'm sure that would be pushing this hug much too far and get me a good punch, so I kept myself grounded. "I'm glad Mello! I'm just so..." I trail off and he pushes me away as if physical contact burned him. Grinning ear to ear I step back. He glares suspiciously at me and I let my smile die out. My cheeks weren't custom to so much use.

"You're such a little bug!" Mello bursts out, exasperated, "You eavesdropped on a prayer? What's wrong with you!?"

"Awh, c'mon Mello. You know I can't help it." I could tell he wasn't really mad at me. He just wanted to make it seem like he was. With a scoff he continues, "You're going to hell for this. Straight to hell! Spying on a prayer is like stealing the Bible, Matt. You just don't do it."

"I'm sorry." I say sheepishly. I'm not really sorry. I know that I should be but I wouldn't trade this wanted feeling for anything in the world.

"Fine." he snaps, "Just don't do it again. Ever." I nod in agreement and he rolls his eyes, walking back into his room. I follow behind, restarting the game on my Gameboy, readying to distract myself until dinner is served. We stay in his room. Not talking, but perfectly comfortable in the silence. Him studying (he never takes a long break from it) and me playing my precious game. When dinner is announced ready we head for the dining room, stomachs growling.

"Finally." Mello says, "I'm starved. About time they started the Feast." I have no idea why he calls it "the Feat" until I see the dining room for myself. Jaw dropped I stutter, "It's like Hogwarts!" He laughs from beside me. "Did you really just compare Wammy's to Harry Potter?" he shakes his head in mock disgust. "Only you Matt, only you."

I can only gape at it all. He pulls me over to a chair and sits next to me and we make our way through the courses. Wiggling his eyebrows when he gets served the chocolate cake for desert as if to say, "hey look, this is great right?" It was great too. Not just the food (which was thankfully a normal color) but the atmosphere. Even being what you could call "socially retarded" I could tell that the air seemed a bit... lighter. People around us were telling jokes and having fun and eating and just plain put talking to one another. Mello lainches into some story about how some kid last Thanksgiving got sent to the ER because he swallowed a turkey bone whole. Everything feels right. Like the empty, lonely whole I sometimes felt filled up with something else. My throat closed up as I realized that this was what celebrating really was about. I was celebrating with people I lived with. To me it meant we were all a family. A strangely large, smart, and dysfunctional family, but a family none-the-less.

About time I had something to be grateful for.

**[[Sorry for all grammar, spelling, etc mistakes. I'll edit at a later date. .**

**Count your blessings today guys! And if you can't think of anything to be thankful for remember, at least you can be thankful for fanfiction for keeping you entertained this Thanksgiving day (night?)**

**PS. I have nooo idea what a Catholic prayer should be like. I looked up the prayer Mello used in this story on the internet. And I don't really trust the internet's accuracy of being correct. So if any of you know the prayer that should be used, please PM me and I'll be glad to fix the possible mistake. Thanks for reading! -points to review button- ^^]]**


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